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忠 贞 不知道还有怎样的忠贞 胜过岸对海的一往情深 — 守住了一个弧度， 默数无尽的往复。 Devotion The heart can think of no devotion Greater than being shore to the ocean-- Holding the curve of one position, Counting an endless repetition. 鬼屋 我住在一间孤独的房子里， 它多个夏天前就已经消失， 除地窖的残垣已无迹可寻， 这地窖在白天有日光洒进， 长满了野生的紫茎覆盆子。 越过葡萄藤掩蔽的破栅栏， 树林回到了先前的田地间； 果园里早已经是杂树交长， 啄木鸟砍剁于新树老树上； 去水井的小路也已被埋湮。 我怀着莫名的悲痛住在这 再没有癞蛤蟆沐浴尘土的 这条被弃置而遗忘的路边 已消失的一间僻房子里面。 夜来了；黑蝙蝠上下翻飞着； 欧夜鹰即将来扯开大嗓门， 噤声后咯咯叫又四处扑棱； 一次又一次我远远就听见 它在还没有到这地方之前 就大声发表它自己的高论。 夏夜里小小的孤星光朦朦， 不知道这些都是谁不作声 和我一起在这昏黑处安身，—— 低丫的树木下有墓碑横陈， 覆苔的名字肯定已看不清。 他们都不知倦，却迟缓悲伤， 虽则有紧挨的少女和少男，—— 他们中没有谁曾放声歌唱， 但考虑到世上的种种情况， 他们已算是极亲密的伙伴。 Ghost I dwell in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the cellar walls, And a cellar in which the daylight falls, And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow. O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield The woods come back to the mowing field; The orchard tree has grown one copse Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops; The footpath down to the well is healed. I dwell with a strangely aching heart In that vanished abode there far apart On that disused and forgotten road That has no dust-bath now for the toad. Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart; The whippoorwill is coming to shout And hush and cluck and flutter about: I hear him begin far enough away Full many a time to say his say Before he arrives to say it out. It is under the small, dim, summer star. I know not who these mute folk are Who share the unlit place with me-- Those stones out under the low-limbed tree Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar. They are tireless folk, but slow and sad, Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad, -- With none among them that ever sings, And yet, in view of how many things, As sweet companions as might be had. From A Boy's Will (1913) 十一月来客 当我们在一起，我的愁楚 认为秋季的这些阴雨天 在所有日子中最为悦目。 她爱那丛光秃秃的枯树； 牧场的湿径她走了个遍。 她兴起不让我呆在家里， 她话多而我乐意听她侃： 她很高兴鸟儿们已消失； 她很高兴普通的灰毛衣 在迷蒙烟雨中银光闪闪。 还有那荒凉落寞的树林， 消隐的大地，阴沉的长天， 她看得真切的种种美景 她当我没有欣赏的眼睛， 并责问我为什么看不见。 我并非直到昨天才明白 在雪天还没有来临之前 荒凉的十一月多么可爱， 但不必徒劳向她作交代， 何况它们胜过她所赞叹。 My November Guest My sorrow, when she's here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered tree; She walks the sodden pasture lane. Her pleasure will not let me stay. She talks and I am fain to list: She's glad the birds are gone away, She's glad her simple worsted grey Is silver now with clinging mist. The desolate, deserted trees, The faded earth, the heavy sky, The beauties she so truly sees, She thinks I have no eye for these, And vexes me for reason why. Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow, But it were vain to tell her so, And they are better for her praise. From A Boy's Will (1913) 无人理会[周旋久 译] 他们任我们走向了这一方， 好像已证实我们俩走错路， 我们才有时候坐在僻路旁， 面带淘气相、浪荡相、甜美相， 试一试能不能觉得不孤独。 In Neglect They leave us so to the way we took, As two in whom them were proved mistaken, That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook, With mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look, And try if we cannot feel forsaken. 附记：细味这首小诗，有颇值得注意处。甫读第一行，潜意识中会把the way we took 理解为“我们的行事方式”。而近视全诗，才发觉用的是字面意义——“我们选走的这条路”。这是一种特殊的修辞方式，似无习名，姑且称之为“语义还原”。有些词语引申义很常用，结果本义反而弱化，偶尔返用其本义，往往可收“平字见奇”的效果。谓我不信，可接着体会第二行的mistaken一词。可惜这在译文中未能得以保留。汉语中这一修辞方法也偶尔可见，如“实践英伦三岛”（用例疑见余光中《天方飞毯，原来是地图》），又如“韵脚踏实”，皆用此法。 向晚出游[周旋久 译] 当我穿过已收割的田园， 那些无头的稻草 平覆如茅屋露湿的屋顶， 半掩住花园小道。 而当我走进花园地里时， 黯淡的鸟儿振翅 飞出蓬乱的枯草的响声 悲伤过任何言辞。 墙边的一棵树枝干光秃， 却见一褐色残叶， 我料想，是受我幽思所扰， 从枝头簌簌凋谢。 再前行不远我停下脚步， 把仅存的紫菀花 褪落的片片蓝色拾起来， 再次带给你一把。 A Late Walk When I go up through the mowing field, The headless aftermath, Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew, Half closes the garden path. And when I come to the garden ground, The whir of sober birds Up from the tangle of withered weeds Is sadder than any words A tree beside the wall stands bare, But a leaf that lingered brown, Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought, Comes softly rattling down. I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you. 割 草[周旋久 译] 树林边从没有任何别的声音， 只有我的长柄镰对土地咕唧。 它都嘀咕些什么？我可说不清； 可能说的是太阳的那股热劲， 也可能是说周围没半点声息—— 所以它这才把话音压得老低。 它可没梦到忙里得闲的造化， 或仙女精灵手中的大把黄金： 真相以外的东西好像都无力 满足使洼地成排的真挚爱情， 没有勉强戳起的花蕊(白兰花)、 一条绿莹莹的蛇受惊可不行。 事实是干活所知的最美的梦。 我的镰刀窸窣只等干草晒成。 Mowing There was never a sound beside the wood but one, And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself; Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound— And that was why it whispered and did not speak. It was no dream of the gift of idle hours, Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf: Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers (Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake. The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows. My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make. 给解冻的风[周旋久 译] 跟雨来吧，大声的西南风！ 带唱歌的来，带搭窝的来； 给那朵埋葬的花一个梦； 使积雪的路边水汽蒸腾； 找到那白色下面的褐色； 可不管你今晚做些什么， 洗洗我的窗吧，让它流动， 融掉它吧就像冰雪消融； 融掉玻璃只把窗棂留下， 像是隐居教士的十字架； 灌进我这窄溜溜的房间， 将挂在墙上的画幅摇晃； 哗哗哗将这些书页翻遍， 把诗篇满地散开， 把诗人赶出门外。 To the Thawing Wind Come with rain, O loud Southwester! Bring the singer, bring the nester; Give the buried flower a dream; Make the settled snowbank steam; Find the brown beneath the white; But whate'er you do tonight, Bathe my window, make it flow, Melt it as the ice will go; Melt the glass and leave the sticks Like a hermit's crucifix; Burst into my narrow stall; Swing the picture on the wall; Run the rattling pages o'er; Scatter poems on the floor; Turn the poet out of door. 群 星[周旋久 译] 他们如此数不胜数地麇集 在这纷乱的飘雪上， 成片的雪花飞扬高齐树端， 当着那冬风鼓荡！—— 仿佛对我们命运感到好奇， 看我们将蹒跚脚步 印上白雪卧处，走进黎明 看不见的安息之处，—— 可那些星星并无爱恨之意， 就如同一些雪白的 密涅瓦雪白的大理石眼睛 全没有天赋的视力。 Stars How countlessly they congregate O'er our tumultuous snow, Which flows in shapes as tall as trees When wintry winds do blow!— As if with keenness for our fate, Our faltering few steps on To white rest, and a place of rest Invisible at dawn, — And yet with neither love nor hate, Those stars like some snow-white Minerva's snow-white marble eyes Without the gift of sight. 牧 场[周旋久 译] 我这就前往牧场清理那口泉， 我逗留只为将落叶拨到一边 （还等看泉水重又变清吧我想）： 我不会去太久。——你也来吧。 我这就出去把那牛犊牵过来， 它正在母马身边站着，好年轻。 她用舌头舔它时它蹒跚不定。 我不会去太久。——你也来吧。 The Pasture I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; I'll only stop to rake the leaves away I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too. I'm going out to fetch the little calf That's standing by the mother. It's so young, It totters when she licks it with her tongue. I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too. 进入自我[周旋久 译] 我愿之一是那些阴翳的树丛 如此老而密几乎不透一丝风 非徒为过去那般阴沉的面具 而是延生到界临死亡的边区。 我不会身受羁縻而某个日子 我会偷走进他们那茫茫无际， 哪怕在任何时候与空地相遇， 或碰上车轮拨沙徐行的通衢。 我可看不出有什么理由回头 或人们不该循我足迹往前走 赶上我，他们将在此把我追忆， 想知我是否爱他们一如往昔。 他们会发现斯人仍是那个他—— 但已更确信过去相信的看法。 选自《少年的心愿》 Into My Own One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto the edge of doom. I should not be withheld but that some day Into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand. I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew-- Only more sure of all I thought was true. From A Boy's Will (1913) 雪 尘[周旋久 译] 一只乌鸦 将铁杉上 雪尘荡下 撒我一衫， 我心为之 情绪一变， 遂得稍释 懊恼一天。 雪 粉[建宝 译] 一只乌鸦 从铁杉树上 碰落一些雪花 飘到我的身上 这偶然的事件 改变了我的情绪 使得我这一天 不仅仅是苦楚 Dust of Snow The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part 并无什么至宝可以留存[朗照 译] 大自然的第一抹绿好比黄金， 是她最易消逝的声音。 她的头枚绿叶好比花朵， 却只有半个时辰的鲜活， 接下来新叶将旧叶叠赶； 所以伊甸园陷入了哀伤， 所以白昼也接替了清晨， 并无什么至宝可以留存。 Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. 来源：诗生活 只一次，便成真 别人嘲笑我跪在井沿上 总搞错光的方向，所以始终看 不深，还不如水面 映给我那个发亮、清浅的影子 好比我在夏日的天堂，神一样， 打从蕨草的花环和云朵的变幻中往外看。 有一次，当我试着用下巴贴住井沿， 我看出，如我所愿，影子下面， 透过影子，一个白色的东西，忽闪不定， 也许在深处——随即看不见。 水漾起，遮住过于清澈的水。 有一滴水从蕨草上滑落，看，一道涟漪 晃动了水底那东西， 模糊了，抹去了。那白色的东西是什么？ 真相？石英？只一次，便成真。 徐淳刚译 译注： 含混不定的“某种东西”（Something）是弗罗斯特的专利。“有某种东西，不喜欢墙（Something there is that doesn't love a wall，《补墙》）”；“好吧，大雪终于显示了某种东西”（ Well, something for a snowstorm to have shown，《歌唱的力量》）；“它的微笑总像包含着什么”（With always something in her smile，《出生地》）……弗罗斯特在他的诗中经常使用“something”，美国著名诗人、评论家斯坦利·彭肖(Stanley Burn-shaw,1906-2005)曾指出，弗罗斯特在毕生创作的诗歌中，使用“something”高达137次之多，很在意“something”一词的不确定性和深邃涵义。 《For Once, Then, Something》一诗，堪称弗罗斯特的“Something代表作”。这首诗最难译的正是Something。“一个白色的东西，忽闪不定”（a something white, uncertain），那是光照射到井里的产物，却又显得不可捉摸。井，光，水，影子，蕨草，变幻的云，水滴……这一切通过仅此一次（For Once）的观看，都变得可疑起来。真相，石英，这似乎是反讽，类似科学上的“测不准原理”，一切的钟都是云，一切的云都是钟；真相总是倏然显现，在遮蔽中显出，来不及匆匆一瞥就又返回到神秘和未知中去……应当承认，它（Something）不是弗罗斯特的发明；它是“某物”，是“实在的东西”，最终是也许存在的真实本身。 For Once, Then, Something Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs Always wrong to the light, so never seeing Deeper down in the well than where the water Gives me back in a shining surface picture Me myself in the summer heaven, godlike, Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs. Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb, I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture, Through the picture, a something white, uncertain, Something more of the depths--and then I lost it. Water came to rebuke the too clear water. One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom, Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness? Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something. |
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![[转载]［美］弗罗斯特诗歌13首](http://image90.360doc.com/DownloadImg/2015/11/0416/61099317_1 "[转载]［美］弗罗斯特诗歌13首")
